


The Merlin and the Wolves

by Isaac_A_Drake



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arthurian Parallels, Crossover, Once and Future King, R plus L equals J, Veil of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8833522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isaac_A_Drake/pseuds/Isaac_A_Drake
Summary: A trip through the Veil leaves Harry in a strange new world where he will have to use his magic, his wits, and all his Gryffindor courage to help the family that takes him in against the coming Winter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah yeah I can't pick one project sue me. Anyways Harry Potter crossovers are my bread and butter and I wanted to see one in ASOIAF where Harry isn't a lord.  
> Anyways I'm going to have Jon Arryn die in 300 AC so that during the War of the Five Kings the ages are TV Show ages but I am going to have many other events fold out somewhat based on the original timeline so there will be interesting things happening in the two years before Jon's assassination.  
> Bonus this is definitely a plot that can keep my interest for a long time, especially as I am only working right now and school doesn't restart until mid-Jan  
> Let me know if the style works, as always my fanfics are mostly for me to experiment stylistically

The Wolfswood 298 AC, eighteenth day of the sixth moon

The Wolfswood was eerily quiet under the silver light of the almost full moon. The light was seemingly drawn down through the branches of the sentinel trees and other evergreens to one singular tree in the middle of a small clearing that other trees seemed to dare not grow. This tree had blood red leaves, bark as white as sun-baked bone, and most peculiar of all it appears to have a face on its trunk, whether it was carved or had grown like that it was impossible to tell.

The tranquil if macabre scene was soon disturbed however, as in the most gruesome fashion the tree's eyes and mouth began to spew forth a blood-like sap. The sap oozed down the trunk of the tree before it began to gather in between the roots and take shape. The shape grew and twisted and bulged. Eventually as it began to look vaguely like the shape of a man two smaller globules of blood-sap split off, one taking a wide and flat shape, the other a small and narrow shape no longer than two hands in length.

Suddenly a hacking cough broke the silence, followed by a scream as the man-shape opened its eyes and saw itself covered in what appeared to be blood. In a mad scramble of flailing limbs the covering of sap was wiped away and mostly removed, also knocking the other two shapes to the side and removing some of their sap covering too.

Slowly the heavy breathing calmed down and the young man with messy black hair, a lean body, and burning green eyes was finally able to take stock of his surroundings. 

The last thing Harry remembered before panicking over being covered in what he had initially assumed was blood was leaping past Remus's grasping hands and through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries after Sirius.

Next was darkness, an oppressive darkness that had been consuming him as voices shrieked all around him.

Then his scar had flared up in pain worse than anything Voldemort had ever done to him.

After that it was just the strange feeling as if his body were being turned into first water and then bread dough and a queer squeezing sensation.

And then the blood that wasn't blood. Which, he realized, was still pretty much covering most of his body even if he had gotten a good deal off of his face and arms. It was also at around this moment that Harry realized he was naked. He cast around to see if he could find something, anything to cover up with. This was how he found his wand and his invisibility cloak, also covered in the strange gooey sap.  
He was relieved and yet extremely confused, wondering how those two items had managed to come with him to wherever he was now. And looking around at his surroundings some more he had no idea where he had ended up, even worse he had never seen a tree so tall and thick as the ones around him in his life. He was fairly certain trees in Britain didn't get that large.

Just as this thought crossed his mind he turned around, and let out another scream. Because the tree behind him had a face that was dripping the blood-red stuff that was covering his body. He was fairly certain from his Herbology OWLS that trees, even in the magical world, did not have faces and drip blood. 

It was when a bird in the branches of that tree let out a short repetition of shrieks that sounded oddly like laughter that Harry decided he had had enough with this most recent bout of nonsense in his life.

Standing quickly, if a little unsteadily, to his feet and scooping up his wand he pointed it at the bird.

“I have had just about enough of this!” He just about growled at the creature, “If you could speak I'd have you tell me where in Merlin's beard I am! But as you can't speak either show me where I can find people or shut the bloody hell up yeah?”

Oh sure he felt crazy for yelling at the bird but it made him feel a whole lot better, as if he had some semblance of control over his life.

He felt more crazy when the bird, a robust little falcon a smidgen larger than a pigeon, tilted its head to the side, then after a few seconds let out a cry and flew off to the east, before perching on a branch of another tree just at the edge of his sight and letting off another cry.

“Oh,” was the only response Harry could formulate before scooping up his invisibility cloak and following, “Maybe the entire world is just crazy now and I fit right in.”

King's Landing, a few weeks prior, 298 AC

The Mockingbird, Petyr Baelish, almost thought the information in front of him was too good to be true. However, it came from his most trusted spy amongst Jon Arryn's ranks, well his most talented spy, he could probably trust Lysa's loyalty more if not her skills. 

Jon Arryn was convinced that the children of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister were the results of cuckolding, and thus bastards and no children of the king.

He had been planning to kill Jon Arryn, frame the Lannisters, and using the political turmoil that would ensue become Regent of little Robert Arryn of the Vale and eventually use that position to wrangle a Lord Paramontship out of the fallout.

But oh no, this was so much better. He could sit back and let this play out, and then have the king and Jon Arryn die if he succeeded and put one of Robert's legitimized bastards as heir. From there he could become regent for the entire realm. And if Jon Arryn failed? Well the political turmoil would see him dead and Baelish's original plans could go through.

Thus instead of moving forward, Baelish did what he had been doing for years, he waited for the right time to strike.

Holdfast near the Wolfswood 298 AC, twentieth day of the sixth moon

Jon was not impressed with the deserter, not in the least bit. While his uncle, Benjen Stark, had often told him most of the Black Brothers of the Nightswatch were not as dutybound, honorable, or skilled as he Jon had always felt the average Brother was at least not far off.

But no, this man looked closer to a Wildling than an honorable Northern warrior taking a vow to fight back the Long Night and the marauding Wildling hordes. 

His trail of thought was cut off as his father lifted the Valyrian Steel greatsword Ice up into the air to execute the deserter, he saw that his younger trueborn brother, Bran, was quite nervous and moved closer to the boy and his pony, “Kept the pony well in hand, and don't look away. Father will know if you do.” 

Bran did well, not looking away or losing control of his pony like some of the unhandled horses. However Jon frowned as he noticed Bran's eyes were fixated on the blood. However before he could say anything to his brother he noticed his father's older ward, Theon Greyjoy, kick the severed head away from where it had landed.

“Ass,” Jon murmured under his breath, but he still put a comforting hand on Bran's shoulder, “You did well.”

Very close by, 298 AC, twentieth day of the sixth moon

It had been two days Harry had been in this world, it had only taken him one to determine he was in some other world than his own, the magic felt powerful and wild here and he had already seen the face-tree which definitely did not exist where he was from.

However what convinced him the most was that his magic, even with his wand in hand and intact, acted very strangely. Precision spells were almost impossible, it seemed the magic of the world would seep into his own and overpower the spells. He had set many many leaves and pieces of bark on fire trying to transfigure them into temporary clothes for himself. In the end he had given up on jeans and settled on a green shirt, green somewhat uncomfortable and leafy pants, and his multicolored invisibility cloak with the hood down so as to not trigger its power. 

He'd also used a cutting curse to cut himself off a very sturdy walking stick, as his falcon companion seemed to want him to keep moving for most of the day. Luckily the creature also seemed to know which berries and nuts were not poisonous for Harry and twice a day would land on some bush or another and not continue on until the young man had eaten. 

Of course another factor telling him he was in another world, or at least another time, had been when he had found a scavenged corpse of a man in chain mail. That had been unsettling even before he realized the man's corpse was still relatively fresh.

Hermione, he was sure, would have found the entire thing fascinating and lectured him on when and where they could possibly be based on the style of chainmail. But all Harry knew was that, to quote one of the few movies he had seen due to it being shown in class one year in primary, was the he wasn't in Kansas anymore. 

At least, he reflected as he walked on, he was finally clean after the falcon had led him to a pond to camp at the night before. 

Now all he had to do was find people and figure out how they felt about magic. The chainmail had him worried, as he wasn't sure he could survive in the middle ages without tossing some spells around, and he wasn't sure that wouldn't make it just as hard to survive as going without. 

Oh, and also how to explain who he was and where he was from. He had his wand and the somewhat beat up sword from that dead hedge knight for protection, but he had really only ever used a sword to kill the basilisk and that was more hold it up and pray than anything skill related. 

He had no idea what towns were around, or castles even. That was an odd thought, thinking about castle other than Hogwarts being around. He supposed maybe with Beuxbatons and Durmstrang last year it was less odd, but he had never been planning to travel to France or wherever on Earth Durmstrang was. 

It took not many more minutes of introspection before he realized the falcon had perched close ahead on the antlers of a dead stag. 

“Well that's not ominous...” he whispered to himself, thinking of the form of his Patronus. What did surprise him however was the giant wolf corpse right next to it.

“Bloody Hell you stupid bird what if that thing has a pack?” He screamed at the creature who just seemed to give him a glare in returned. It was then that something pulled at his transfigured pant leg and he looked down to see a wolf cub.

“Oh.” And then another, and another. And well he had always had a soft spot for orphans, being one himself.

Though maybe not as much as Hagrid did for creatures like their mother, he thought wistfully as he sat down to pet the little wolves. If the falcon wanted to take a break the least he could do was enjoy it right?

Literally over the Hill a few hours later 298 AC, twentieth day of the sixth moon

Robb and Jon had wandered off from the main party as they usually had the last year or so as Lord Stark had allowed them more and more freedom. Especially in the Wolfswood and so close to the rest of the party from Winterfell they felt safe to explore a little.

However they had not expected to find a dire wolf impaled on the antlers of a stag.

And on closer inspection they certainly didn't expect what they found next.

As they neared the corpses to inspect them a head of unruly black hair popped out from the other side of the corpses, “Oh, hello! I don't suppose you could take one of these off my hands could you? They are quiet hungry and...oh! Do either you have a knife? My sword isn't doing very well at getting small piece of meat of the stag for them.”  
The strange young man, just a bit older than they, had placed a grey wolf cub in Robb's arms and held out his hand demandingly to Jon while struggling with another pup in his other arm. 

Stunned all Jon could do was comply and hand the boy his belt knife. 

“Thank you kindly!” He quickly went to work cutting off small slices of the little good meat left on the corpse and doling it out to the many cubs surrounding him. 

It was after a moment or two of this that Robb found his tongue again, at least enough to make a jest, “Are you some sort of wood wizard or Green Man? Caring for orphaned dire wolf cubs?”

Their animal friendly compatriot seemed to have been too absorbed in caring for the cubs to pick up on the jesting tone and took it seriously, looking up with relief painted across his face, “That's great! I wasn't sure the people out here would be okay with my magic, but if you have wood wizards I can't be that strange!” 

With a swish of a stick in his hand one of the pups, all white still blind and wandering away from the group it seemed, zoomed back over into the young man's arms.

Neither the lordling nor his bastard brother could stop their jobs from hanging open.

“Real...magic?” Jon Snow was barely able to croak out.

That's when Harry snapped back down from his high of thinking magic was okay, “As opposed to...fake magic? Ah...perhaps I was mistaken? I don't suppose we can keep this between the three of us?” A falcon sitting upon the antlers of the stag let out an indignant squawk, “Four of us?”

Robb and Jon looked at each other, both puzzled, and then their faces changed and were replaced by mischievous grins. Robb's being the most prominent grin of course, the young lordling turned back towards the stranger and stretched his hand out. 

“My name is Robb Stark, son of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount of the North, and Warden of the North of the Seven Kingdoms. And I'll keep your secret wizard if you join us back home at Winterfell.” What fourteen year old boy didn't want to make friends with a wizard?

Harry sighed and took the outstretched hand to shake it, “Well I suppose I did want to find some shelter so if you want me to join you I suppose this isn't the worst way to do it!”

It was then that Theon Greyjoy crested the hill and called back over it, “Lord Stark! I found them! They're over here, seems they made a friend.” That last bit Jon was sure had been added sarcastically, but if only the spoilt Kraken knew the truth, then he'd bite his own tongue.

It took some convincing, and Jon's quick thinking about the number of the pups, but both the animals and Harry were to be accepted into the Stark household. Though the Lord Stark had made Harry bend the knee and become a sworn shield of Robb's over suspicions he might be a Wildling from “Beyond-the-Wall”. 

As they rejoined the small caravan Harry couldn't help but think, “Whatever Wall they are beyond I am from further than that my lord.”


End file.
